Phlegm slithers down the sink
its slow descent towards the stink
Hands of mucus and hair reach
out like Hell's hellions to ensnare
the whimpering shade, pathetic
adorned with bloodied fists, raised
beating their faces in rhythms anthemic
A mirror is their sole spectator
A reflection is an unreliable narrator
that sees a God that punishes fear,
the pen that writes infinite narratives
Pain, the transformative element
is the absence of language
Its primeval elegance
Always Silly
For those who matter,
For those who don't,
It comes on a platter,
But still they won't.
In dubious clarity
Often they sink,
Behind painted walls,
They smoke and drink.
Love never dies,
They love too well,
In beautiful lies,
They peacefully dwell.
A mythical poverty
Punishes with gifts,
Defining with pity,
They relish the rifts.
A nursery rhyme
Fools all with ease,
And leaves no time,
For us to cease.
A silly poet often,
Writes silly lines,
They awfully soften,
While the reader shines!
The sun eats away at the hills aloft.
My thoughts with ease drift off.
I allow to be carried to ventures and dreams a drift
Fangled places diamond oaks a rift
What would the world be like
if i would release these visions a might?
On a world of many limits
that punishes change's herd and those in it
Maybe i flatter myself to great
Maybe i should answer conformity's berate
Maybe i should see myself on a different plain
and believe myself to be insane
A star once floated from East to West
He now punishes those who abuse their power
Snarling under his hook of a nose
The fire orange sun beats down on his blood red goblin face.
His bark is a thunder bolt
Honor is his name and he will cease at nothing to preserve it
From the Heian to Tokugawa, through the surrender of ‘45
From countless Seppukus to the Yasukuni Shrine
He flew through the night which followed Abe’s killing
He watched with disdain when the troops raided Nanjing
“Call me ugly as you wish, but you are the true pigs of the sky,” he said
“With your bombs and swords you have given me endless work”
The flying dog is here to stay, and to judge all who make evil
His face will float above forests and decorate museums
Do not be the reason why the red goblin glows
Do not let this mighty flying dog make an example of your money hungry soul
He will haunt you like no other as he has for centuries
Bow to your masters, and maintain your dignity
Or whatever is left will be ripped and turned into dust
By the flying dog who they call “Tengu”
I spiral downward, down I go
Without ever hitting the bottom
I live in freefall, I’ll die there too
Tangible things, I grasp for them
The view is bleak, it’s just a fog
Above and below me. side to side
Is that my hand before my face
Or the hand of another helping soul?
Sometimes I land upon solid ground
But aware that I’m still moving
This false place holder, this fake safety zone
Is also spiralling down in the void
Whilst others seem able to fool their minds
And say that everything is okay
My brain won’t have it and punishes me
For trying those same blinkers on
I still smile at things, it isn’t all gloom
I still have times of joy in my world
But ever aware, I am wasting my life
I see my time spiralling down ahead of me
I spiral downward, down, down I go
I never got the hang of this life
But I know how to float, at least for a while
Hang on till there’s no reason anymore
It softens the edges of cruelty,
makes judgment feel like care,
makes exile look like protection.
It wraps the blade in velvet and calls it mercy.
I have stood in rooms full of warmth
and felt nothing but frost inside my chest.
Because warmth without understanding is suffocation.
Because heat without truth is manipulation.
They smiled as they sentenced me.
They prayed as they cast me out.
They said it was for my own good.
But I saw the fire in their eyes,
and it was not holy.
It was hungry.
Heat demands conformity.
It melts difference.
It punishes the cold for daring to remain solid.
But I did not melt.
I did not bend.
I did not become what they needed me to be.
I am the frost.
I do not lie.
I do not soften.
I do not hide.
In the cold, everything is revealed.
The breath. The wound. The truth.
There is no illusion in frost.
Only clarity.
So let them burn.
Let them bask.
Let them believe their heat is holy.
I will remain.
Sharp.
Clear.
Unmelted.
Because heat is a lie.
And I am the truth it cannot touch.
If I ever had a daughter like me,
I’d call her
my little desert rose
so she knows I’ve lived it too—
a brittle-stemmed rose
blooming through sandstorms.
Were I to have a daughter—
someone soft like me...
I’d tell her I’m sorry.
Not for bringing her into a world
where cruelty exists—
but for letting her live in it
when her petals part
before her thorns remember to rise.
If I ever had a daughter
who feels and pains like me…
I wish I don’t.
It’s a gift to feel everything, they say.
But I’ve loved it enough to know—
the world punishes it.
I selfishly wish
she would never be like me…
I want her to stay
an unguarded, unbroken wild daisy.
I am in the cold, you looked me out here.
frostbite hits me, the cold air punishes me.
why did i talk, why did i try to make things better.
when i never can. it is my mouth that gets me in to trouble.
Once I didn’t think of writing a poem one day,
But a poem called me, in its own way.
If I capture the essence of simple speech,
Poetry punishes me, just within reach.
Let my poem be smooth and round like a bead,
Pure and clear like an autumn day’s seed.
If I flaw a poem with even a single stain,
It’s better to remain silent then.
So you are aware:
This is what a war looks like,
from those who were there.
It's not just from those who fight,
but those with reason to care.
Leaders win cheering,
and political support.
Villains get fearing.
People afraid to report,
when enemies are nearing.
Politics sets goals.
People die to achieve them.
Death comes for their souls.
The scales never even.
No one punishes the trolls.
Know the weight we bear.
Lift the burden of their sins.
They don't seem to care.
This way, everybody wins.
Except for those who were there.
Denying reality not to feel guilty,
doesn't mean being free of misery;
he sits alone, he grumbles, he detests
the pathetic glances they flash at him;
he fills his tall glass to the brim...
and spit out all the untold truths!
Losing what was dear to him is another piffle,
a thing without value that suggests intimidation;
what makes him happy is aiming his sharp rifle
and threaten who doesn't share his conviction.
Some shut their mouths, many run;
dying at the hands of a violent man
may take their life as he pulls the trigger,
turns into a beast, shouting with anger.
Has he ever read the Holy Bible that forbids murder?
Punishment doesn't apply to him: he's the predator;
and he punishes whom he thinks is responsible
for his misfortunes and loves to see him tremble!
Denying reality not to feel guilty,
doesn't mean being free of misery;
he sits alone and grumbles, he detests
the pathetic glances they flash at him!
He fills his tall glass to the brim...
and spitss out all the untold truths!
Losing what was dear to him is another piffle,
a thing without value that suggests intimidation;
what makes him happy is aiming his sharp rifle
to threaten who doesn't share his conviction.
Some shut their mouths, many run;
dying at the hands of a violent man
may take their life as he pulls the trigger,
turns into a beast, shouting with anger.
Has he ever read the Holy Bible that forbids murder?
Punishment doesn't apply to him: he's the predator;
and he punishes whom he thinks is responsible
for his misfortunes and loves to see him tremble!
The predator will face the Judge and the Jury,
they will convict him and throw away the key;
ah, taking a human life is eternal damnation:
there's no escape from such condemnation!
Time is a river that flows endlessly
Carrying memories and dreams along the way
Sometimes it is calm and gentle, sometimes it is rough and stormy
But time never stops, it never stays
Time is a thief that steals our youth and beauty
Leaving wrinkles and scars in their place
We try to resist it, we try to defy it
We hide and we fight, we run and we chase
Sometimes it is kind and generous, sometimes it is cruel and greedy
But time never regrets, it never delays
Time…
It changes and shapes us, it makes and breaks us
It gives and it takes, it heals and it hurts
It teaches and tests us, it blesses and curses
Time…
It rewards and it punishes, it honors and shames
It surprises and shocks us, it delights and frightens
It inspires and challenges us, it comforts and saddens
But—
Time never stops, it never stays
Time never regrets, it never delays
*I wrote this poem on January 3, 2024, as part of a ’30 days of poetry’ January challenge. This was day 3 and the prompt was: Write a poem about the concept of time passing.
She who waltzes in the glicering stars of dawn,
She who observes the raging light called love,
She who gazes above all that is life,
She whose eyes glare, lustful and fierce, yet hopeful and longing,
She whose declaration of karma, punishes the wasps of humanity,
She whose loving embrace warms thou's icy heart,
The watcher.
Oh, poor heart, why are you in so much pain?
Why do you take this heart ache, when someone who you know is in pain.
Someone's sleepless nights, someone's despair,
The heart bleeds when fate punishes someone so unfair.
Although people know and sympathize with the misery,
the helping hands, close friends and relatives vanish in a hurry.
Oh lord, how can I ignore such pain even when I am struggling to survive?
The poor heart will feel better thinking it helped someone's will to survive.
Whether happy or unhappy, I sing Narasinh Mehta's song,
"One who is human, knows the pain of others,
Does good to others who are in misery,
and does not let pride enter his or her mind"
Narasinh Mehta – 17th Century Indian poet
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